Matteo Paciotti CC
My son as hummingbird
hovering lantana, dipping his beak
into purple cups, tiny fluorescent
helicopter he, watches me:
a giant toddler screaming FUCK.
After all my 12-step meetings,
meditation, YouTube yoga,
giving up dessert, grief therapy,
communing with dogs and sunsets,
I still melt down like a two-year old
dropping computer bag,
laptop smacked on asphalt,
papers and postage stamps carried off by the wind.
Already late, sleep deprived.
Alone. My street empty
except for him flittering above flowers,
nodding, waiting till I see him.
Hi, Mom. It’s me. I’m here.
Adam as hummingbird watches me
Susan Vespoli writes from Phoenix, Arizona. Her work has been published in Anti-Heroin Chic, Rattle, Nasty Women Poets: An Unapologetic Anthology of Subversive Verse, and others. Her poetry collection about addiction in her family, Blame It on the Serpent, is available from Finishing Line Press. All proceeds are donated to addiction support and recovery organizations. https://susanvespoli.com/
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.